


Last Phone Call

by bella_my_clarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Last Moments, Modern AU, Sad, bellarke AU, married Bellarke, undercover bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bella_my_clarke/pseuds/bella_my_clarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy's bleeding out in an abandoned alleyway. He can't get help, so instead he gives himself one last memory to cling to. One last phone call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This one's sad. I usually write fluff but, yeah. This one might be a downer

Bellamy ground his teeth together, his whole body tensing as he worked hard not to scream. He pressed one hand to the middle of the chest and watched in the dim light as red seeped between his fingers, warm and sticky. There was too much blood. He wouldn’t survive much longer if he didn’t get help.

And I won’t, he thought helplessly. He’d gotten shot while undercover, and the agency had warned him countless times they couldn’t do anything to help if he was in danger. He was on his own.

Shaking, he fumbled in his pocket for his disposable phone and turned it on. Logically he knew he should call 911, get to a hospital, and make up a story, but he also knew logically that it would be hard to explain why he’d been shot in the chest with his badge in his pocket. Also, he’d never make it to the hospital in time. He had minutes, maybe.

So instead of dialing 911, he typed in a more familiar number and brought it to his ear as it started to ring. He worked on managing his breathing with each ring, but it was getting harder as he got weaker and the reality of the situation set its full weight on its shoulders.

Come on, please pick up, please, he silently pleaded. He just had to hear her voice, that was all he needed. He needed to know she was okay, she was safe, she was happy. But the last ring sounded in his ears and he heard a robotic voice say, You have reached the voicemail of Clarke Blake. Please leave a message after the beep.

He blinked hard, wanting nothing more than to break down but also knowing he needed to give Clarke one last memory of him. “It’s me,” he said, nearly choking on the words. “It’s Bellamy. I just wanted to—”

Suddenly there was noise on the other end of the line and he heard a voice—her voice. “Bellamy? Hey, sorry, I didn’t recognize the number.”

He glanced upwards for a moment, a silent _thank you_ , and said, “Hey, princess.”

“Is something up? You sound awful.” He could almost see her face, her eyebrows scrunched up as she tried to see right through him and dig out the problem. Which she could do, most of the time. But not over the phone, and he was grateful, because he didn’t want her to know what was wrong right now.

“It’s just been a long day out in the field. You know the kind.” Knowing she wouldn’t be convinced, he tried to change the subject. “How was your day?”

“Unexciting, as usual. I went to the store and bought some ice cream—just to feel like an adult, obviously, because I know we have more ice cream than we need already.”

Despite everything, Bellamy managed a small laugh. “We can never have enough ice cream.”

“Fair enough,” she said, and he could tell she was smiling. His heart ached, remembering that smile. Remembering how her face would light up as her lips turned upwards, how getting a flash of teeth from her made him feel like he’d won some grand medal. How she would keep that smile even as their lips touched, and she’d run her hands through his hair and laugh against his mouth and he couldn’t help but smile too because Clarke was infectious.

Bellamy’s eyes stung. “How—how’s O doing?”

“She’s fine. Out on a date with Lincoln again. They’re really happy, you know, Bell,” Clarke said thoughtfully, fondness painting her tone a warm, gentle color. “I think they’ve been discussing getting married.”

“Good thing we beat them to the punch,” Bellamy joked, eliciting a slight laugh from Clarke.

“True, except they’ll get the wedding that won’t be chaotic, since we can give them advice.”

“Yeah, we will,” Bellamy said, forcing his lips to turn upwards as he said it. He didn’t know why he was faking a smile; she couldn’t see it. Maybe he needed to pretend he was happy, too. And he _was_ happy. He had a wonderful wife. A sweet sister, one who had finally found someone who would love her as much as she loved him. A freezer full of ice cream and a bed where he could guarantee Clarke’s arms around him every night. He _was_ happy. And that was precisely why, at this moment, every part of him felt so sad.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy dared to dream. “Let’s just stay at home. Watch a movie. Eat some of that mountain of ice cream you’ve created. Lie around.”

“You do realize that’s what we do every Sunday, Bell,” Clarke teased.

“I know, I know,” he murmured. His voice was getting weaker. There was no way he could hold out much longer; his body was numb, the blood flowing. His head spun. “But just one more time?”

Clarke sighed mockingly. “Oh, all right. But if you’re going to tell me it’s a lazy day, you know you won’t get me out of bed until after noon.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m intending,” he teased, but the words just hurt to say. What he wouldn’t give to hold her one last time. To feel her mouth on his and cup her shoulder blade in his hand and rest his head on her hair. What he wouldn’t give for just one more day with the people he loved.

But there was no point in dreaming anymore. He had to wrap up, before it was too late. “Clarke.”

The desperation in his voice must’ve caught Clarke, because her voice sounded worried when she asked, “What is it? Bell? Are you okay?”

“I’m better now,” he said, even as the first tear escaped. _Better now that I know you’re safe. Better now that I get to end my life the way I ended every night—thinking of you._ “I love you, Clarke.”

“I love you, too,” she said, and she sounded so scared. He didn’t want her to feel that way. He didn’t want his brave princess to be afraid for him. “Bellamy, please, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he insisted, as strongly as he could. “Not anymore. Tell O and Lincoln and the others hi for me, okay? I won’t be home until late.”

“O—okay. Just please come home safe, Bell. Come back to me.” At the end she seemed to almost choke. She was clearly shaking, and he wished he could tell her the truth, but he couldn’t bear it. Plus, his consciousness was sapping so quickly.

“Clarke,” he gasped, and the tears were falling faster, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.... “I wanted to say I’m sorry, for everything I’ve done.”

“No. Bellamy Blake, don’t you apologize to me. You never need to do that with me. Just come back. Just tell me you’re coming back.”

“I love you so much, Clarke,” Bellamy said. And before he could do anything stupid, before he could ruin it, he hung up the phone.

There wasn’t time to grieve all he had lost. As he fell onto his back and his eyes fell closed, he just hoped Clarke would be safe, and that she and O and everyone else would band together and they would forgive him for leaving them. As he slipped away, he breathed one last prayer to the air, a wish only the stars would ever hear.

_May we meet again._


End file.
